


Mine

by Bedalk05



Series: Geralt Deserves Soft Things [9]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Caring Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Confused Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Courting Rituals, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Established Relationship, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Self-Esteem Issues, Humor, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Mild Blood, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Possessive Behavior, Protective Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24443854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bedalk05/pseuds/Bedalk05
Summary: Jaskier has been acting strange. Well, stranger than a shifter bard in love with a witcher is expected to be.In which Jaskier is acting more wolflike than usual and Geralt is oddly flattered yet very confused.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geralt Deserves Soft Things [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742950
Comments: 120
Kudos: 1273
Collections: Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callingtheangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callingtheangels/gifts), [oceantidesandsightlines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceantidesandsightlines/gifts).



> This is gifted to Callingtheangels who had the BRILLIANT idea of a "providing for your mate" fic. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This takes place between chapters 4 and 5 of "You've Been Deprived, Haven't You My Dear?" 
> 
> As always, any and all mistakes are my own.

Jaskier has been acting strange. Well, stranger than a shifter bard in love with a witcher is expected to be. 

After years of living inside each other’s pockets, Geralt and Jaskier have things down to a routine. Geralt hunts while Jaskier searches for herbs. Geralt collects wood while Jaskier starts the fire. Geralt fights the monsters while Jaskier tends to any of the witcher’s wounds. 

In other words, Geralt is the provider, the protector-that’s his role, that’s what he knows, that’s what he’s _good_ at. But lately, Jaskier has been encroaching on his fucking territory. And Geralt is at a loss of what to do about it. 

It all started two weeks ago. Geralt was grumbling about how shit the tavern’s stew was as they were trudging away from the town and before he knew what was happening Jaskier had shifted and taken off. Baffled, Geralt scooped up Jaskier's forgotten clothes and continued on his trek. Though Jaskier does occasionally get a case of restlessness, usually he _warns_ Geralt before zooming away. Whatever, the shifter would catch up with Geralt when he felt like it. 

It wasn’t until that afternoon when Geralt finally stopped to rest and try some hunting. Shit food and long journeys were never a good combination when a witcher is concerned. He had just finished tying Roach up and collected his crossbow when Jaskier came trotting out of the woods dragging an honest to gods _buck_ twice his size. 

Though it’s true the shifter hunted for them after the mountain incident when Geralt didn’t realize who he was, since they’ve gotten together the pair have fallen back into their regular roles. So it was just a bit _odd_ that Jaskier had the sudden inspiration to fuck with the good thing they have going. 

Without much ado, the shifter dropped the corpse by Geralt’s feet with a happy wag before sitting and looking expectedly up at him. Bemused, Geralt offered a gruff thanks before he began skinning the meat. It was strange; Jaskier almost acted like it was an offering of some kind. The intent stare Jaskier subsequently pierced Geralt with all through his meal was unsettling to say the least. 

And it wasn’t a one time thing. Every time Geralt indicates a need to hunt or eat, Jaskier disappears for hours before rejoining Geralt with what must be the best looking meat from miles around. And then he sits and watches Geralt eat, releasing contented rumbles whenever Geralt finishes the meal. 

Geralt only made the mistake of not finishing the proffered meat once; the pitiful whine and drooping tail and ears he got in response were too painful to witness. But it was so strange. It’s not like Jaskier made the fucking thing-what’s the big deal? He acted like Geralt was spitting on his effort when Jaskier wasn’t even the one cooking like he usually does. No-feeling almost inadequate and listless with his job being stolen, _Geralt_ has become the one gathering herbs and seasoning their meals. He misses Jaskier’s cooking. 

The most awkward incident was when they were in the middle of a tavern and Geralt was picking half-heartedly at some inedible meat while Jaskier sang for their meal. (They were on their way to pick up his lute from Marya's home. Geralt is only slightly dreading meeting the intimidating-sounding woman.) Lost in his thoughts, Geralt hadn’t realized that Jaskier was watching him with narrowed eyes as the witcher shoved aside his food. 

The wolf that raced out of the room a moment later before trotting back in hauling a kill was only met with a few slow blinks by the patrons. Given the fact that earlier, a witcher had walked in covered in monster guts while a pristine bard had fawned over him, perhaps this wasn’t the oddest thing the poor townsfolk had witnessed all day. Based off of their indifferent reception to Geralt, they were too poor and too tired to care about something not actively trying to kill them. 

But it wasn’t just food Jaskier was presenting Geralt with. When they would make camp Jaskier would shift and frantically collect kindling for a fire, at times rolling larger logs with his fucking muzzle back to the site. And just like the meat, he always dropped the fire materials at Geralt’s feet reverently and almost hopefully, though what Jaskier hoped for eluded Geralt.

It only got weirder from there. There was the time when a grateful alderman went to pat Geralt on the arm and Jaskier growled at him. While human. Similar displays of what Geralt can only describe as _possessiveness_ have consumed his usually easy-going partner. Like when Geralt decides to give Roach a rest or they walk through town, and Jaskier practically seals himself to Geralt’s side, baring his teeth at anyone who brushes too close. 

Then there’s the clothes. Nearly everyday, Jaskier wears an article of Geralt’s clothing before insisting that Geralt wear it the next day. The happy rumble Jaskier releases when he goes to scent Geralt afterwards is worth enduring the strange routine he supposes. 

The weirdest instance of Jaskier’s recent behavior though was undoubtedly when the shifter curled up to Geralt and began licking the witcher’s hair, nibbling at stray ends. When Geralt jolted with shock and pulled away Jaskier released a beseeching whine, ears pressed back. Feeling oddly guilty, Geralt shifted back in place and sat there frozen, flummoxed, baffled, and unsure what to do. 

After an indeterminate time when Jaskier had thoroughly groomed Geralt (because there was honestly no other word for it), Jaskier sighed happily, mouthing at Geralt’s jaw and nuzzling his nose before settling in his lap. Geralt didn’t even know where to begin asking the questions racing in his head so he let it go like everything else that had been happening recently. 

Because, and Geralt will never admit this, it's been...nice? He's never had someone care for him so persistently and earnestly before. Never really had anyone care for him period. And he's certainly never been with someone so territorial. Part of Geralt knows he should be irritated at the alpha male displays but Jaskier's behavior makes him feel _wanted, coveted._ It's strange. But not necessarily bad. 

Except, with each gesture, there is a lingering sense of unease, of inadequacy growing within Geralt. Like Jaskier is being forced to take over Geralt's roles because the witcher isn't fulfilling them well enough. 

And he has to draw the line here. Geralt was given a simple werewolf contract; Jaskier has accompanied countless hunts just like them. And per their agreement, the bard always stays a safe distance away. 

As they come upon a wooded clearing that evening though, Geralt quickly realizes that this was going to be another instance of Jaskier going off script. He is unsheathing his sword when a russet-colored wolf is pouncing on him before dragging Geralt into the brush by his fucking tunic. Melitele’s tits how fucking strong is the shifter?? After a single growl and nudge that gets his point across clearly _(stay),_ Jaskier turns away from Geralt and attacks the werewolf. 

And all the witcher can do is stand at the outskirts of the battle, trying to find an opening without harming his companion. The two wolves are throwing themselves at each other, claws and fangs seeking any opening to maim, to kill. It’s feral and terrifying and Geralt can only stand there helplessly. Is this how Jaskier always feels when Geralt orders him to watch from afar? 

Before Geralt gets a chance to join the fray, Jaskier pins the creature down with a throaty growl before tearing open its throat with a bloodthirsty snarl. Geralt gulps. He's never seen Jaskier act so savagely before. Didn't know the bard had it in him.

Some dark piece of him can't help but feel drawn to the display. 

As he drops the corpse carelessly aside, Jaskier trots towards Geralt before honest to gods _bowing,_ tilting his head, and then rearing up so he can throw his paws over Geralt’s shoulders as he goes to scent the witcher. Though Geralt is usually ready and willing for any gesture of affection from Jaskier, this time he pushes the shifter off, fully processing what just happened. 

“What the fuck Jaskier?” he barks. The tail that had been wagging rapidly freezes, and Jaskier falls onto his rump with a confused whine. Clenching his fists, Geralt strides back and forth before the shifter, trying to gather his thoughts. A storm of emotions rage in him: confusion, frustration, and worst of all, uselessness and helplessness. He doesn’t understand what’s been up with Jaskier, and as nice as this new behavior can be, the _why_ of it all is driving him crazy. He can’t believe he’s admitting it but they need to talk. 

“Do you think I’m not good enough? That I won’t provide for you?” He finally demands, turning to the shifter sitting meekly in the dirt. When Jaskier only cocks his head in response Geralt throws his head back with a frustrated growl. “Will you just shift back so we can talk like actual humans?” 

With a huff Jaskier shifts, yelping at the clothes Geralt tosses at his face. Without the fur disguising them, Geralt spots scratch marks along Jaskier’s torso and blood streaks across Jaskier’s face and hands. Stomping over to their packs, Geralt grabs his waterskin, some rags, salve, and bandages before sinking to the ground in front of the shifter, who is still bare except for a pair of loose breeches he finishes tugging on. 

As Geralt begins gently washing Jaskier’s face and cleaning his wounds, the bard eyes the scowl still fixed on the witcher's face. “Have something on your mind my love?” Jaskier inquires mildly.

Geralt growls lowly, breathing through his tumultuous emotions to ensure his touches still remain light. Fortunately none of the wounds are too deep, but Geralt is going to put some healing salve on anyway. It calms something in him. Geralt doesn’t want to feel that helpless terror at watching Jaskier fight without being able to intervene again.

As he dips his fingers in the salve and begins covering each scratch Geralt grumbles, “You’ve been acting strange.” 

When it’s clear no further elaboration is forthcoming, Jaskier smiles ruefully. “I'm afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific, my wolf.” 

Geralt grits his teeth. He doesn’t do words. Jaskier knows this. But Geralt is ready to tear his hair out at the mystery of what’s going on with Jaskier. 

Instead of elaborating, Geralt chooses to stay silent as he finishes dabbing salve on the scratches while he gathers his thoughts. For once in his life, Jaskier stays still and mostly silent, humming an unfamiliar melody under his breath. Knowing him, the bard was in the midst of composing a new ballad that shamelessly embellishes the hunt he just hijacked. 

Finally, the witcher sets the salve aside with a sigh, raking his gaze over the shifter to check that he didn’t miss any spots. Reassuring himself that he covered all of Jaskier’s wounds, the witcher finally meets the bard’s gaze for the first time since the fight. Jaskier watches Geralt curiously, eyes bright and piercing like a summer’s sky. 

As he sits there staring at his companion Geralt realizes how foolish his complaints are. Is he really upset that Jaskier is doing things for him? That he cares about him?

But that’s not really the problem. Geralt is a creature of habit and Jaskier has shown to be one too. He just wants to understand what’s changed, because if Geralt isn’t doing enough for Jaskier he needs to know so he can do better. He can’t lose his bard, not again. 

“You’ve been acting like you don’t trust me to care for you,” Geralt finally mumbles, snatching up Jaskier’s hand so he can clean off the stray blood. 

Jaskier whines. “I trust you with my life Geralt, haven’t I made that clear by now?” 

Refusing to look up, Geralt picks up Jaskier’s other hand, following the same motions until there wasn’t any sign that the shifter had recently been in a vicious fight with another wolf. “You may trust me with your life but do you trust me to provide for you? Take care of you?” Geralt asks quietly, eyes fixed on where he's stroking a thumb along Jaskier’s palm. 

The bard closes his hand around Geralt’s, squeezing tightly. “You give me everything I could want my love,” Jaskier insists, eyes pleading. 

Releasing a frustrated snarl Geralt rakes a hand through his hair. “Then why have you been doing all my fucking jobs?” he finally demands. 

Jaskier blinks up at him. Tilting his head slightly he remarks, “I’m sorry I took on that werewolf; something inside of me just had to fight it for you. But that’s the only job I’ve taken that I can recall.” 

Gods fucking dammit. Geralt fucking hates talking. Things you do for fucking love. The unease and tension that had been rolling around in Geralt’s stomach has slightly lessened with Jaskier’s reassurance that Geralt isn’t lacking but the shifter is still not getting it. Something _is_ wrong and Geralt will get to the bottom of it. 

Growling Geralt begins listing off everything he’s been observing, tallying them on Jaskier’s fingers. “You never give me a chance to hunt for food, you always get the firewood, you bare your teeth at anyone who gets too close to you like I wouldn’t protect you, and as we’ve covered you took over my fucking hunt when you know we have a deal about keeping your distance so I can ensure your safety.” 

Huffing out a breath Geralt throws out his arms. “So? What the fuck am I supposed to interpret all of that as?” 

Geralt watches as Jaskier’s mind visibly races, eyes darting all around as he nibbles at his bottom lip. Then, instead of looking sheepish or apologetic, Jaskier’s eyes widen and his mouth drops in horror. “Oh fuck,” he says faintly. 

Panic laces through him like a wyvern’s claws. “What’s wrong Jaskier?” Geralt asks urgently, clenching the bard's hands. “Whatever it is, tell me, we’ll figure it out together.” 

To his shock and growing concern, Jaskier starts laughing. But it’s not the full bellied chortling he does when genuinely amused. No-this is choppy and high, tittering like he can’t catch his breath. 

Gripping the shifter’s shoulders, Geralt presses their foreheads together. “Talk to me little wolf,” he pleads. 

Jaskier’s eyes close and he releases a strained whine. “It’s embarrassing,” he finally moans. 

A wave of relief washes over Geralt and he lets out a slow breath. Embarrassment. Embarrassment he can handle. 

Leaning back, Geralt raises an eyebrow and comments wryly, “You’ve humiliated yourself countless times in front of me. Once more won’t make me think less of you.” 

Groaning, Jaskier pitches himself forward until his face is pressed against Geralt’s chest. Whatever he says gets muffled by the mouthful of fabric he swallows. Huffing out a breath of laughter Geralt tilts the bard’s chin until their gazes meet again. Jaskier is wearing his lip bloody with how much he is biting at it. With the pad of his thumb, Geralt pulls the bard’s lip away from his sharp teeth, soothing the frayed skin. 

Sighing explosively Jaskier falls backwards until he’s lying sprawled on the dirt. “My stupid fucking _wolf_ must have been taking over because it identifies you as a mate _okay??”_ he finally whines. 

Geralt sits there frozen as he takes in Jaskier’s admission. All at once, a surge of warmth floods through Geralt, washing away the worry and confusion he had been feeling for weeks. 

He mouths the word. _Mate._

Of course Geralt knows that Jaskier loves him, the bard sings it enough, but this is a whole other level. This is his innermost self coming out and saying so. From what Jaskier has explained, shifters were created by wolves who had longed to be human, entranced by these two-legged animals that wandered the earth. Despite what might be believed, all creatures have some kind of magic, and the wolves managed to harness the ability to shift forms. 

Given their origins, shifters retain instincts and knowledge from their wolf ancestors. Geralt may not be an expert on wolves but even he can start putting the pieces together. 

No wonder Jaskier was taking Geralt’s responsibilities. He wasn’t worried that Geralt couldn’t take care of him, he was trying to prove to the witcher that _he_ could provide for _Geralt._ The witcher can’t help but release a short laugh at that realization. And of course Jaskier became possessive and territorial; anyone who dared to move too close to them was probably interpreted as a threat to Jaskier’s chances at getting Geralt as a mate. 

A grin spreads across his face as Geralt moves so he is straddled and looming over the shifter, hands planted beside his head. Nosing at the nape of his neck Geralt purrs, “Trying to win me, little wolf? Prove you're worthy?” Peering up, Geralt feels a steady heat trickle down his spine at the darkened gaze Jaskier pierces him with. 

Licking his lips Jaskier bares his neck and rasps, “Am I acceptable to you?” 

Growling, Geralt nips Jaskier’s ear before trailing kisses along the vulnerable throat. “You’re perfect,” he rumbles. 

Suddenly, the world spins as Jaskier flips their positions so Geralt is pinned to the ground. Geralt can't help but let out a needy moan at the motion. Gods he loves when the shifter shows off his real strength. Grasping Geralt’s hair Jaskier grinds down on him before biting Geralt’s neck. Arching up with a gasp, Geralt groans as he hears Jaskier’s snarled claim. “Mine.” 

Gripping the shifter’s hips so he can press them together Geralt nods. “Yours,” he breathes, before promptly being taken apart. 

Some time later, as they sprawl together sweaty and relaxed, Jaskier’s mouths at Geralt’s throat. “My mate,” he hums, tightening his arms around Geralt. Smiling, Geralt presses a soft kiss to Jaskier’s head. Hmm. Mate. Geralt could get used to saying that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Her two adoptive parents (because they’re not fooling anyone-it’s pretty clear they’ve unofficially adopted Ciri) are currently holding a silent argument over...firewood? Ciri isn’t sure. All she knows is that for one night’s fire, they certainly don’t need so much kindling._
> 
> In which Ciri is equally baffled and entertained by Jaskier and Geralt's relationship and does what she can to help them along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY I couldn't help myself. oceantidesandsightlines's and other people's comments on chapter 1 just got me thinking about how entertaining it would be if these two dolts started fighting over who got to do some of the responsibilities and this is what came out of it. 
> 
> This chapter takes place during "Hold Me Closer."

Ciri’s life has become quite strange. Having your family and subjects massacred, learning you possess magic, and fleeing your kingdom for your life would do that. But that’s not exactly what Ciri is referring to. No-what she has in mind is what all of those events have led up to.

Currently, she is absentmindedly weaving some flowers into a crown while observing her two travel companions argue. Of course, it’s a bit hard to argue when one of them is a wolf but if anyone were to find a way to do so it would be Jaskier. 

Her two adoptive parents (because they’re not fooling anyone-it’s pretty clear they’ve unofficially adopted Ciri) are currently holding a silent argument over...firewood? Ciri isn’t sure. All she knows is that for one night’s fire, they certainly don’t need so much kindling. 

But with every stick Jaskier trots over with, Geralt hauls in an armful of wood before glaring at the wolf challengingly with his arms crossed. The shifter only growls in response, fur ruffling before he slinks away to get more logs. And the cycle continues.

Ciri is utterly bemused. They can’t actually be fighting over who gets the wood, right? There must be something deeper? 

Shrugging, Ciri determines that it’s none of her business and turns her attention back to her flowers. The two men are clearly in love; whatever they’re arguing about will surely blow over.

“Get back here you bloody bastard!” Geralt bellows, causing Ciri to jump. Looking up, she watches as the witcher chases Jaskier into the woods. “It’s _my_ turn to hunt and you _know_ it you son of a half-troll!” Ciri sits there, frozen, nervously scanning her surroundings. Should she follow them?

Before she can make up her mind Geralt comes stomping back into the campsite, grumbling to himself as he throws on a log. “Fucking jackass knows it’s my bloody turn.” 

Ciri can’t help herself, curiosity getting the best of her. “What’s wrong?” she inquires. 

Geralt’s head shoots up, eyes widening like he had forgotten he had an audience. His expression shutters as he debates what to share. Finally, Geralt sighs before growling, “Jaskier and I alternate responsibilities but sometimes Jaskier insists on taking over my jobs and doing them for me. Fucking asshole.”

Ciri has to bite the inside of her cheek hard to keep herself from laughing. She needs to handle this delicately, she can tell. “So...you’re angry at him because he wants to take care of you?”

Ciri has never witnessed the usually composed man look so out of his depth as he blinks dumbly at her. It certainly removes some of the mystique and mythos that usually surrounds him. Ciri’s heart clenches; he reminds her of Grandmother whenever Eist would flirt and do something sweet. This is familiar territory at least. 

“You know, it’s not a bad thing to let someone you love take care of you,” she points out. 

Geralt wipes his face tiredly. “I know,” he huffs. “Just still getting used to it.” A rush of fondness floods Ciri’s chest for this gruff man. Ciri won’t deny feeling ambivalent about him at first; Geralt can just be so closed off and stand-offish. But the moment they met up with Jaskier it was like a wall was brought down. Geralt is softer, more open, around the bard. It’s not like he’s a completely different man, but it’s a significant enough difference to be noticeable. 

If how Geralt acted when he and Ciri travelled alone is his default though, it’s no wonder that the witcher is out of sorts with the shower of affection and acts of love Jaskier performs. But the witcher deserves some softness; it’s clear he has a big heart hidden behind that armored chest. 

Standing up, Ciri floats over to him before stretching up to place the flower crown she made on top of Geralt’s head. Beaming at his flummoxed expression Ciri pats the witcher over his heart. “You look good with some flowers,” she says brightly. 

As he touches the crown gently, Geralt looks conflicted, opening and closing his mouth several times. Finally he grunts, “Jaskier likes flowers. Should get him some.” Ciri perks up. 

While they wait for Jaskier to return, Ciri shows Geralt the field of flowers she had found. With an innocent look Ciri begins off-handedly providing the names and meanings of flowers, paying specific attention to the ones that express love and affection. Her tutors would be proud. If they were still alive.

Shaking the darkened thoughts from her mind, Ciri watches Geralt survey the flowers with the same concentration he does when considering what potion to take. Finally, this man who has killed monsters with his bare hands gently plucks the flowers that Ciri remarked had to do with love, grasping them securely in a fist. 

At this point Jaskier comes bounding back to them with two pheasants dangling from his mouth. Placing them in front of Geralt Jaskier plops down by the witcher’s feet with a wag of his tail, ears pressed back. 

Flicking his gaze at Ciri, Geralt releases a soft sigh. Kneeling down Geralt presses his head into the crook of the wolf’s neck. Whatever he says is muffled by the shifter’s fur but it was clearly something positive by the happy whine and nuzzling coming from Jaskier.

As Jaskier glances toward Ciri with a tilt of his head, Ciri turns her back with a roll of her eyes, used to the routine at this point. The one and only time Jaskier shifted back to human in front of Ciri, Geralt acted like a scandalized housewife, scrambling to shield Ciri’s eyes while the princess just giggled. Apparently modesty isn’t really a thing for shifters. Since then, for Geralt’s sanity, Ciri gives Jaskier some privacy. 

Once Jaskier shifts back, Geralt thrusts the bushel of flowers in the shifter’s face. Okay. So his presentation needs some work. But apparently Jaskier doesn’t mind if the grin that spreads across his face is any indication. The tension that had been thrumming in Geralt’s shoulders relaxes as Jaskier takes the flowers with a croon. As the shifter throws himself at Geralt, Ciri smiles softly to herself. Success. 

The rest of the night is uneventful. Whatever silent argument they had has clearly blown over and Ciri can’t help but take some of the credit. Of course she got (unofficially) adopted by two men who are utterly gone for each other but completely hopeless. Well, it’s a good thing they have her now.

*******

Though they’ve been travelling fast in order to meet up with Yennefer before Ciri, Geralt, and the sorceress head to Kaer Morhen, currently their ragtag group is stopped in the road and have been for the past 10 minutes. “And I’m telling you I refuse to spend another night curled up with you two without all of us getting a bath. Do you know how strong my nose is in my shifted form?” Jaskier demands, hands braced on his hips. 

There is something comedic about a bard planting himself in the path of a horse in order to argue with a grouchy witcher and Ciri is just soaking up the free show. 

“And I’m telling you it’s not safe to bring Ciri into town,” Geralt growls. Part of Ciri’s amusement fades away. Oh. they’re arguing over her. 

Shaking his head Jaskier sighs. “Between the two of us no one can touch her. I will smell a Nilfgardian a mile away, your boorish glare will cow all but the stupidest men, and Ciri’s hair is dyed.” Taking a step forward Jaskier drops his voice into a deadly whisper, “I won’t hesitate to turn Roach on you. She likes me now.” 

Ciri can’t help but grin at Geralt’s affronted look. Oh, the bard is going to regret that threat later. Even Ciri knows not to touch Roach. 

Geralt growls lowly. Jabbing a finger at the shifter he snarls, “We will stay one night and you are sleeping on the floor.” Ciri winces. Oh, now the _witcher_ is going to regret that later. Geralt is punishing himself and Ciri as much as Jaskier with that statement. And the shifter knows it. 

With a scowl Jaskier turns away with a huff. “Your loss,” he sniffs. 

*******

Ciri is ecstatic. As lovely and entertaining as Jaskier and Geralt can be, Ciri misses people and civilization. She is skipping through a market, admiring the various stalls while a tense shadow follows in her wake. With a gasp, Ciri stops at a vendor selling little charms to admire the wares. 

Geralt comes up beside her and though the witcher is acting indifferent Ciri spots a spark of interest in his eye as he surveys the charms. Thinking back to a few nights ago when Ciri began her new life goal of helping Jaskier and Geralt get their shit together, she smirks. “You know,” she says slyly, “I bet Jaskier would love one of these to hang off of his lute. Don’t you think Geralt?” 

She stifles a giggle at the witcher’s caught look. From what she can glean, part of Geralt's disgruntlement over Jaskier's gestures is that it prevents him from doing something for the bard as well. Hopefully buying a little trinket will help soothe the witcher. 

Tentatively, he reaches a gloved hand to brush a finger against a charm in the shape of a flower. Glancing over to where Ciri is gazing longingly at a cute horse, Geralt rolls his eyes and grabs both before dropping some coins into the merchant's hands. 

When Geralt shoves the gift at Jaskier, Ciri hurries out of the room. She does _not_ want to linger to see where that kiss goes next. That night at the tavern, Ciri smirks while Jaskier plays. Geralt doesn’t take his eyes off of the simple charm that shimmers off of the bard’s instrument. In between notes Jaskier keeps touching it lightly with a secretive smile on his face. Yeah, Ciri is good. 

*******

When they return to the road, Ciri pays closer attention to who does what and is enthralled by the dance her companions engage in. While one person hunts, the other collects herbs and cooks. While one of them gathers firewood, the other starts the fire. But what’s most interesting is there is an unspoken agreement that they alternate responsibilities. Geralt’s irritation from before makes sense now. If they have some kind of routine, of course the ritualistic witcher will be irked if Jaskier breaks script. 

It’s not for another week before Jaskier does just that, bolting into the woods when Geralt mentions that he’s going on a hunt. Instead of shouting or competing with him though, Geralt stalks away in a different direction. Not willing to be left behind, Ciri trails behind the witcher and is shocked when he brings them to a flower field. 

Wordlessly, Geralt turns to Ciri with a questioning quirk of his eyebrow. Gazing over the flowers, Ciri nods before pointing out the various names and meanings. As she does so, Geralt hums thoughtfully and begins plucking several stems. 

When Jaskier returns carrying their dinner and drops it expectedly in front of Geralt, the witcher returns the gesture by thrusting the flowers in front of Jaskier’s face. Ciri quickly whirls away when she realizes that Jaskier is already beginning to shift back from his excitement at the gift. As she obligingly shields her innocent eyes, Ciri can’t help but allow a satisfied grin to cross her face. Damn she’s good. 


End file.
